Exactly As Imagined

We go for a walk in the Northwest Railway Station. Today an industrial wasteland, a site of remembrance and an urban border zone, it will soon be a new urban district. A procession: We mourn that which has been forgotten, has left traces behind or a ghostly presence. Celebrating what grew in the shadows of abandonment. We carry found objects, craft fragile forms of attention, reactivate unseen sights, excavate hidden tracks. And, inevitably, we linger on the ridge between genuine symbolic investment and ruin porn.